Reach For Me
by cloverblob
Summary: Twenty-three year old Shelby Corcoran has only wanted one thing her entire life. To be a star. But maybe she took the wrong path to get there. And maybe that path won't get her anywhere at all.
1. Raise Your Hand and Reach For Me

**Author's Note: **So, I kind of had this little ficlet in mind. It shall be a two-parter, I think. I have all these plot ideas that I'm not sure what to do with, so, we'll see!

**REACH FOR ME**

_Raise your hand and reach for me_

_Silent, slumber_

_Sweetheart, your thunder is my thorn_

Blood, sweat and tears. These three things often attributed to a war zone; a war of the worst kind. And to Shelby Corcoran, lying upon that hospital bed, her bangs matted to her damp face, pain etched upon her features, it was nothing less than World War III.

She knew what happened during this thing called labour. She had been well aware that it was painful. She'd sat through that forty-five minute documentary in health class and cringed with the rest of them. But this, this was not on a beaten up twenty inch RCA television screen. This was really real and this really hurt. She could feel the tears within her eyes, and once they emerged, they would go unnoticed.

Shelby let out a guttural groan, another deep push. Damn baby, stubborn as her mother, was clearly not wanting to come out. And if another doctor, nurse or short, balding gay man told her to breathe in and out one more time, she'd punch them in face. Not that she was particularly violent, but eight hours in labour and she was just about capable of murder.

Her hands gripped the sheets on either side of her, the blue fabric wrinkling around her fists as she held her breath with the next push. Thank God for her vocal training, or she'd have been blue in the face by now. Although, the heated red tone her face had turned wasn't much better. If Shelby were to see herself right now, she'd be horrified by her own reflection. But checking out mirrors were not of the utmost importance at the moment. No, getting this baby out as soon as possible was the priority. If only to stop the pain, the pain of a watermelon being pushed through a straw.

_"Push, you got this. Push!" _

"Shut the fuck up or I'll be pushing you into the middle of the damn road," growled the twenty-three year old woman through her clenched jaw, her green eyes staring up at the lights on the ceiling above, grinding her teeth as her neck arched at another push, longer this time. It was more and more painful, but the action of pushing was getting a little easier. Another push. She started a low scream, every sound coming directly from her diaphragm.

Every time she opened and closed her eyes, a new bright spot emerged into her vision. If only she could really see metaphorical stars, maybe she'd be at least slightly comforted by their image. Instead, the blur of lights surrounded by immeasurable pain and the sound of her own harsh screams (which really couldn't be good for her vocal cords) filled her senses. And then there was a small sound, a hiccough, almost too soft for human ears. And less than a second later, screaming.

Tiny, little baby screams.

Shelby's breathing became more drawn out, breaths of relief as she felt like the air had suddenly become clearer than it had ever been before. She felt like she'd started to forget what it felt like in the absence of pain.

Her ears directed the rest of her head to turn towards the source of that wailing sound. Perhaps the cries were annoying to some, but as she spotted the little baby that she'd been waiting for for nine months, Shelby smiled, the cries were music to her ears.

Unable to do much, not move nor speak, she watched, her eyelids heavy, as the nurse wiped the baby girl's stomach, then her tiny hands, puny feet. Shelby fixated upon that hand, smaller than her palm, chubby little thing, fingers curled up at the knuckle. Then she turned her head, big brown eyes with a little mess of dark hair. Green eyes met brown and both mouths curved upward and that pudgy hand reached above her head towards the bed. The newborn reached for her mother.

Shelby's eyes didn't stray for what felt like hours, but in a fluid motion, the nurse picked the little girl up and the rest of the room, as well as the hustle and bustle that accompanied it, came back into focus.

"Miss? I'm going to give you some medication, it'll help you get rest," informed a nurse, who had been standing by her bedside longer than Shelby had noticed.

"N-no," Shelby croaked, her throat sore and speaking in her normal voice felt unfamiliar. "Where are they taking her?"

The nurse, dirty blonde with kind eyes, looked towards the other end of the room for a moment. "To her-"

But Shelby had already known the answer, asking the question was just a first reaction. "Can you get her? I just want to hold her," she asked, such inclination in her tone.

And the woman, in her pale green scrubs, smiled meekly, not wanting to hurt her current patient's feelings. "I'm sorry, I can't do that. You have to get some rest, okay, miss?"

"_Please_. Just for a minute," Shelby's voice was panicked, her words rushed and scared.

"I'm so sorry, just take some deep breaths."

"She's my baby, how can you say no to me?" Shelby couldn't breathe though, deep moments of gasping, like something was lodged in her throat. Melodramatically, her heart had gotten stuck.

But the nurse couldn't bring herself to say no. She couldn't let Shelby's begging get to her, but the pain in her eyes... she just couldn't. Pulling the syringe from the platter on the table, she held the IV cord, and started to inject the medication.

"No, no, no, no, please, don't do that," Shelby begged hastily and repressed tears began to fall. "Please, please, I want to see my baby. Please, stop, no." She swallowed heavily trying to keep steady breaths. "Please, just..."

* * *

In the dark of the one bedroom apartment, the only source of light came streaming in through the large glass windows, the lights of the city creating silhouettes on her face, Shelby awoke.

Her brow was moist, sweat from her tossing and turning running down her temple. It'd been her common way to wake up for the past few weeks. And it was not a great start to any morning. She'd wake up disgruntled in the middle of the night too; leaving dark circles under her eyes that proved a lot of work to cover up. It wasn't good, certainly, to have woken up in this way.

She had an audition today, an off off Broadway play which seemed disastrous at best, but she'd take what she could get. The first week here was mildly pleasant. She was ready to jump right into any audition, but they didn't come as often as she thought. And the auditions didn't go quite as flawlessly as she'd assumed. This one though, with her favourite Dreamgirls song in her repertoire (though she'd been advised against it as white people couldn't be in Dreamgirls, a fact that depressed her), she was sure it would be a breeze. The lack of sleep was of no concern.

Finally awake, body temperature cooling down as she stared out at the New York skyline, Shelby stood up and made her way to the kitchen. She opened the refrigerator door, finding an unopened bottle of orange juice, popping it open and sitting down at the kitchen counter. It was a little lonely here, but she figured she could handle it. No one to hear her at night, no one to bother her asking why. For no one had the right to ask her and nor would she ever tell.

She got dressed, lazily, she simply didn't have her heart in it. Irregular considering if anyone knew her in the least, they would know she did nothing halfheartedly. Shelby'd been the most passionate of people since she was six years old. Anything and everything was an event, because every moment of life led up to the succession of her dream. And soon, soon that dream would come true. And that thought brought her back to her stronger self. Regardless of what had happened only a month prior, she could pass through this day with a smile. Whether that smile be real or fake was irrelevant.

She'd taken a cab, throwing in a generous tip, she did have money to spare after all. The moral dilemma of where that money came from didn't even occur to her until she'd spent it on multiple pairs of very gorgeous boots. She glazed over the script in her hand as the cabbie weaved through NYC traffic. At first, this had startled her. Being from Ohio, the drivers here believed they had right of way and she had almost been run down the first day, that didn't happen in the midwest. Her new plan was to figure out the subway system, she'd never be able to handle near death experiences every single morning. And hopefully, it would also be quicker.

The waiting outside the office was the difficult part. Auditions had to be the most nerve-wracking part of acting. It decided the future, and that was just terrifying. Shelby, though, was one confident woman. Of course, she was tired and a little hoarse, so perhaps not in the best shape to shine that confidence through. She made her way through various vocal warm ups, not really paying much attention to the other people waiting. In fact, she was a little smug about it. Maybe they'd hear her voice, which was truly a gift from God, and simply be scared off. Perhaps, a little too cocky.

The audition was over and done in a matter of ten minutes. She knew the answer before she'd even left the room. Shelby had done her best to show tenacity, the best of her skill. But the looks on their faces, intrigued by her talent but bored by her performance, proved what she knew; her heart wasn't in it. That was her trouble lately, wasn't it? Her heart was somewhere else.

Making her way out onto the street, she stumbled toward the curb, heaviness in her posture. Letting her exhaustion overcome her, she fell back on the steps of the apartment building behind her, her head lolling tiredly against the fence that bound a makeshift garden.

Here she was in New York City, ready for every dream she ever had to come true. Only it wasn't happening. And Shelby feared she ruined it before it even began.

**Author's Note:** I love reviews, so please do so! This is mostly just drabble in the form of backstory, I know. But the scene got stuck in my mind as I was writing another one shot.


	2. Ballad Of Bliss, You Are Born

**Author's Note: **I have decided to change this to a three shot! I came up with an idea for the third chapter and I thought about making it into a separate one shot, but it works well with the story and fits as an ending! :D It's already half-written anyhow, so that will be up soon. Thanks for all the fantastic reviews, it's so cliche but it really does make me want to write more and faster.

**REACH FOR ME**

_Bathing, beauty_

_Ballad of bliss, you are born_

_Tell me you love me, tell me you see me_

At 9PM the phone rang and Shelby trudged from the couch to the kitchen to pick it up. She answered it lazily, then realized there was a possibility, more like a miracle, that she'd gotten a callback. And ever so professionally, she greeted, "Hello, Shelby Corcoran speaking."

"Hey, baby. How are you doing?"

Shelby's face sank. Taking a moment's pause, she exhaled. "Hi, mom, look, I'm busy right now, could I call you back some other time?" she lied.

"You don't have ten minutes to tell me what it's like in New York City? I haven't seen you for almost a year. You haven't come for the holidays, everyone was wondering where you were, I told them you were off becoming a star? You get that job you were wanting? And what am I supposed to do with all your presents? Giving me your mailing address. If you don't have time to talk to me, maybe we're going to have to start sending letters to accommodate your new lifestyle, huh?"

She let out a soft chuckle, not really able to listen to her mother's rant, but enjoying the familiarity of it. The euphoria of the city had worn out as quickly as it came in, and now she was longing for something that made her feel comfortable. Something that made her feel safe. Her mother could provide that, but she couldn't stand talking to her. For the simple reason that she had no idea what her daughter had done. And Shelby had no intention of telling her. "Yeah, here, I'll give you my address, but then I have to go. I promise I'll call."

She knew she wouldn't keep that promise, but she couldn't allow herself to feel any guilt about it or the feeling would spread, and she simply didn't have the strength for that. Instead, she hung up the phone, and plopped back down on the couch, returning to the ice cream she had on hand and turned the TV volume back up.

There was a sense of numbness about her. She was watching the television, but she wasn't _really_ watching. And there wasn't anything _really_ going on in her head either. It was a whole lot of white noise as she stared blankly, bringing the spoon of vanilla up to her mouth every now and again, licking the inset of the spoon slowly. Shaking herself out of it, she turned her head back to the phone, eyes carefully trained on it for a moment.

Abruptly, she stood up, placing the tub of ice cream on the couch and rushed to the phone. She dialled a number she'd memorized, a number that had been ingrained into her mind for nine months, and put the phone to her ear, twisting the cord along her finger.

The ringing was torturous; with each ring that came, she coiled the plastic wiring tighter around her hand.

"Hello?" came a voice, the man on the other end sounded pleasant, cheerful even.

Shelby opened her mouth for a moment, and the words seemed to get stuck in her throat.

"Hello? Is anyone there?"

She clasped her hand over her mouth, trying to compose herself, but she could hear noises in the background. There was an increasing louder screaming sound coming through. Her ears locked onto it, and her entire body froze. After a few more seconds, she heard a click and the sound disappeared. She'd had no idea what she was doing, or thinking. She ran a hand through her curled dark hair, nerve-wracked, and breathed deeply.

* * *

Another waiting room, this had to be the worst part of her day. Not that waking up didn't seem hard enough, but having to sit in some over-sterilized room just to go visit someone who would poke and prod her with needles somehow seemed worse.

"Hi, there."

Shelby looked up from the stale magazine she had been reading. Didn't they have anything better than a two month old copy of Reader's Digest? Say Vogue or at least Cosmopolitan? She'd expected the damn healthcare companies would have enough money for at least that. But she hadn't been expecting anyone to talk to her. "Uhm, hi," she responded warily, turning her head towards the man sitting beside her. She hadn't even noticed he was there, her mind too far off into the clouds.

He chuckled lightly. "Sorry, it's just, you look so familiar. Do I know you?"

"I don't think so," she responded with a quirked eyebrow.

"Ah, you're probably right. I don't know how I'd be able to forget a pretty face like yours," he said with a smirk.

A few moments of silence passed as Shelby looked at him, the expression on her face unreadable. "... are you _hitting_ on me? In the doctor's office?"

"What can I say? You caught my eye."

Unable to contain herself, she let out a snort and brought her hand up to her mouth to cover rough giggles.

"Why are you laughing? You should feel complimented," he said, clearly offended by her reaction. She hadn't realized before, but he wasn't exactly terrible looking.

"Oh, I'm complimented alright," she answered, chuckles still escaping her lips every few seconds. "What if I was here for, oh, I don't know, an STD or something?"

"What? ... are you?" he asked tentatively, suddenly horrified. It was the 90s after all, the AIDS pandemic was barely coming down from its peak, the paranoia didn't surprise her.

Instead of answering, she dramatically turned her attention back to her magazine, leaving him there to wonder. He was clearly not expecting this reaction from any woman, so he stood up, gave her a double take before scooting over to the other end of the waiting room.

Shelby was bemused with herself, though, she wasn't sure why. In fact, that little conversation had brought her into a better mood. It wasn't that she had been hit on, though that was also good for self esteem, it was just the humour of the thing. As her name was called, Shelby made her way down the hall, a small smile on her face.

This wasn't an exam she enjoyed in the least, but post-pregnancy exams were supposedly obligatory. She pulled off the awfully revealing gown, back into her own clothes and sat in the chair, waiting for the doctor's report. She didn't particularly like this office, it was different from the Lima clinic she'd gone to for years. And while both were equally unpleasant, this one was unfamiliar and that somehow made it that much more uncomfortable.

"So, Shelby, good that you're sitting down," said the doctor, entering through the door with a file in her hands and sat in her much comfier chair.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked, suddenly wary, her posture straightening in her chair.

"It's not much to worry about, but we're going to have to schedule you for surgery."

"We have to what?" she exclaimed, jumping the gun.

"There have been some complications," she explained.

"Oh my God, am I going to die?" Shelby eyes were wide, eyebrows crinkled with fear and worry. It was so like her to become worked up without knowing the full details. Melodramatically, she started to breathe heavily, "I don't wanna die," she said, her voice a whisper.

The unsuspecting doctor chuckled, unsure of what to do. "You are _not_ going to die. It's not a big surgery, there are some risks, but it's not life-threatening."

"Are you sure? Because I'm an actress trying to make it. Will I be able to work after the surgery? I _need_ to find work. Will there be scars? Stretch marks are bad enough, I can't look like Freddy Krueger if I want to be an actress. You have to understand how pertinent this is!" Shelby implored, going off on her tangent. It was what she did when she was stressed out, rant about it to someone who probably didn't care.

"Just stay calm. It's going to be okay. We'll plan the surgery at the end of the week, or whenever you can get someone to stay with you. It'll be fine."

A few moments of silence passed, Shelby stared down in her lap, thinking. She was overreacting probably, it wasn't as though she'd been diagnosed with cancer.

"Okay, you're good now? I wasn't finished," said the doctor carefully, trying to be as soothing as possible. Shelby looked up, a little bit of terror in her eyes. "We'll have to perform a hysterectomy."

"I-I don't know what that is."

The hesitation upon the woman's lips made Shelby brace herself, her right hand clutching tightly onto the arm of the chair, her nails digging into the fabric of it. "You won't be able to have anymore children, I'm so sorry."

* * *

Shelby had a way of being both rash and yet, immaculately organized. It was her passion and need for perfection combined that made her a force to be reckoned with; but it also made her very difficult to handle. And because of that, she never truly could figure herself out. She would think she wanted something, and change her mind only moments later. The realist and the idealist within her always having a struggle.

The news she had just been dealt was horrifying. She stumbled out onto the street, the autumn wind hitting her full force, as she stood blankly, her scarf flying off to the side within the air. She looked up to the city skyline and could feel a surge of tears appear within her eyes, and she let out a gasp. This year was not going well for her.

But she was struggling with herself now, as she started to walk, blindly passing the masses of people that inhabited the streets. She didn't planned on being a mother, not anytime soon, it was all about the dream, everything was about the dream. But she could remember that feeling that haunted her, the sensation of love she could not rid from herself. She could remember her unnamed little girl, and she knew she wanted that. Someday, she had wanted a daughter that she could raise and care and love. And now it would never happen.

Her steps took her down the Canal Street subway station, standing on the platform, that blank stare omnipresent within her eyes. As the train came, she entered the sliding doors and sat down, her head leaning back against the advertisement behind her.

The train ride was long and torturous. Why she seemed to live so far away escaped her. Each stop, people came in and out through the doors; they were completely inconsequential to her and she to them. She wished she had brought her Walkman along, any music would have done her some good.

Instead, her ears perked up at the sound of cooing. Across the train car and a few seats down, a woman sat with a baby in her arms, blowing raspberries into the child's neck then planting little kisses up her neck to her ear. The baby, dressed in all pink, so typical, giggled at each noise. Shelby watched with intrigue, her eyelids starting to shake as she watched something she had had the possibility of doing at that very moment but gave away. She leaned her body against the standing pole beside her, and began to sob.

**Author's Note: **Angsty, right? Yeah, I just feel like her past needs to have some justice done. I hope to have the next and last chapter up soon! If anyone has any suggestions or questions or something they'd like to see me put in, I'd be glad to oblige! Please review, let me know how I'm doing with this, I'll never know if I need to improve unless you tell me!


	3. Finally, A New Day We Have Found

**Author's Note: **Thanks for the reviews, everyone! I'd have posted sooner, but I could not end this the way I had planned in my head. So it's kind of short, less detailed. I'm not completely satisfied with it, but we'll see.

REACH FOR ME

_Prism in darkness, you make me proud_

_Fragile, fumbling_

_Finally, a new day we have found_

This gown, it was quite possibly the most uncomfortable thing Shelby had ever worn. The revealing nature of it had nothing to do with that fact. It was the picture of walking through the ICU earlier that morning, the mixed smell of sanitization, relief and death. She couldn't shake the image of crying relatives as she passed by a small visiting room filled with lush couches, three end tables and tissue boxes. She could only describe it as the grieving room. And passing by the patient's own private room, wearing an identical gown, she was bombarded by the image of herself being the one lying upon that bed.

She sat on the hospital bed, feet hanging off the side. Brushing her wavy hair out of her eyes, she looked out the bright windows. The view was a typical one for New York City, buildings; buildings that seemed to stretch for miles, until they reached that piece of endless cerulean ocean.

Shelby's gaze scanned the room, and from her lips came a soft humming. The silence killed the woman who thrived upon the sound of music. Her voice came through slightly open lips, her body swaying slightly to her own rhythm. There were no lyrics, for none seemed to come to her. Instead, she just sat there, wordless melodies filling the room.

"Miss Corcoran?" came a voice and a soft knock at the door. "Please be ready in five minutes."

Be ready? Be ready for what? Just the surgery? To Shelby, all the nurse has said was, be ready for us to rob you of a future family. She wouldn't be ready. No one could ever truly be ready for that.

With her gaze averting from the glare of sunshine across the window, she turned her head towards the side table and remembered the clipboard and forms they had requested she fill out. She picked it up, scanning the sheet, only catching words like 'not liable', 'penalties', 'resuscitation' and her neurotic tendencies began to freak her out; what if she died? What if she fucking died?

Still, she filled the papers out like clockwork; name, address, insurance number, emergency contact (which she left empty), over and over. Her hand shook slightly, but she kept the pen as steady as she could. Setting the clipboard back down lightly on the bed, Shelby stood up and nodded to the attendant at the door.

Lying in that surgery prep room was worse. She didn't think anything was worse than having to wait, but this was. Everything reeked of saline and she couldn't stand it. Staring up at the ceiling lights, she found herself praying to God. She was Jewish and all, but had never been particularly religious in her recent years. This was certainly the time to put some hope in her faith.

"Is there someone we need to inform about any complications or ask decisions?" asked a nurse, and Shelby looked up at her.

"Oh, uhm, no, just me. I trust the doctor," Shelby replied, a meagre smile upon her lips as she nodded reassuringly.

There really wasn't anyone to wait for her. She was just about starting a life in New York, what little family and friends she had were back in Ohio. And she refused to burden anyone with this news. Shelby craved attention, sure, but certainly not anyone's pity.

Still, lying there as they rolled her and the gurney into the operating room, she couldn't help but feel a certain emptiness. There was a chance she could die within the hour. And the worst part was that she would be alone. She had to no one to blame but herself, and she was well aware of that fact as she stared up at the operating lights, blinding her vision into bright, morphed shapes.

"Could you count back from ten, please?"

"Ten," she felt scared, it was a countdown to what exactly? Sure, anaesthetized sleep, but also an unknown and that could only induce her with unadulterated fear. "Nine," she felt her throat go dry from a fatigued urge to start crying. "Eight," if she wasn't so paralysed, those tears would have already begun to fall. "Seven," her mind rushed to her family, she'd told her mom she'd call her, she might never get the chance to do that. "Six," and her baby girl, if she had to wait eighteen years to see her, she would do that, but the idea of _never_ seeing her... "Five, four, three..."

She sat in the fifth row, scanning through the program in her hands. A group of singing deaf kids had wounded her ears, not to be rude, it was sweet and all, but oh God, this was a singing competition. New Directions was next said the paper between her fingers. She scanned through the list of names, a certain one popping out at her and she furled her eyebrows as she read it.

As the music began to play, Shelby looked up, but the curtains upon the stage had not begun to rise. Instead, she watched the spotlight move towards the back of the auditorium and she followed it with her eyes.

It was shocking at first, as it would be to see a young doppelganger of yourself. She watched intently, listening to the hauntingly beautiful voice that came from that young woman gliding down the aisles. She'd only come here to scout the competition, but this, this moment, she'd been waiting for for sixteen years.

For a moment, though the girl didn't notice it, green eyes met brown for the second time in their lives.

"Rachel," Shelby whispered, remembering the name upon her green booklet, not able to tear her eyes away. Now she had a name to place with her elusive baby girl.

**Author's Note: **Done! Thanks for reading, hope you liked it! It was a slow story, I know, but I figured it would solely be based upon character development. Glee sometimes has trouble with doing this, let's not have any illusions about that.


End file.
